


You're In The Air

by coloursflyaway



Series: The Wanting Comes In Waves [2]
Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Gentle Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They leave the bar together just like Dean knew they would from the moment when Aidan smiled against Richard’s lips, giving him a kiss which gave away just how many times he had made the other man fall apart. When they do, Aidan’s hand is still in Richard’s, the older man’s other palm resting against the small of Dean’s back, not pushing, but guiding and it should be difficult, confusing because all of them want, but none of them seems to be exactly sure of how to start, and yet it is everything but.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're In The Air

**Author's Note:**

> So my one-shot somehow turned into more. Who would have thought?  
> This, though, can be read on its own almost just as well, so if you want to steer clear of the cutesy, fluffy stuff and just get to the porn (which is still cutesy and fluffy), off you go.

They leave the bar together just like Dean knew they would from the moment when Aidan smiled against Richard’s lips, giving him a kiss which gave away just how many times he had made the other man fall apart. When they do, Aidan’s hand is still in Richard’s, the older man’s other palm resting against the small of Dean’s back, not pushing, but guiding and it should be difficult, confusing because all of them want, but none of them seems to be exactly sure of how to start, and yet it is everything but.

They hail a cab and ignore the driver, who looks at them with curious eyes and curled lips, stay quiet because somehow, no words are needed although they haven’t spoken in such a long time.  
Maybe, Dean thinks, maybe it’s because Aidan’s fingers are dancing along the inside of his knees, or because his head is resting lightly on Richard’s shoulder. He feels safe, warm, strangely calm although his heart beats fast and hard and he shifts so he can press his lips against the pale expanse of skin which Richard’s shirt reveals.  
It’s the most intimate touch since those kisses back what feels hours ago and the other hums softly, puts a hand on Dean’s thigh, his thumb rubbing circles over the coarse material of his jeans.

The drive passes in no time at all, because Dean loses himself in the sensations, in the closeness and the lines and swirls of Aidan’s fingers, the promise they seem to make, because all his thoughts seem to be jumbled together and blurred. He’s drunk on this, on them, and they have just started.

 

When they get out of the car, everything feels wrong, because the air hitting Dean’s skin is cold and there are no more touches to keep him warm, no traces of fingertips which seem to have burnt themselves into his skin, no heat radiating from Richard’s body; even the memory of the kiss, or rather, the kisses, seeming to fade until Dean’s lips aren’t tingling anymore. He hates it, almost as much as he hates not knowing if it’s okay to stuff his hand into Richard’s pocket when the older man steps away from the cab, straightens his back and smiles at him.  
Dean smiles back without even thinking about it, and the other steps forward to place a kiss on his forehead, sweet and soft and almost platonic, making Dean grasp Richard’s hand in his before he slides both of them into his own pocket as they part again. It feels right, better, to have some point of contact between them, and his heart speeds up as if he was nervous, although his mind is clearer than it has been for days, and calmer, too.

 

They end up in front of Aidan’s room because it’s the closest, with one of Richard’s hands still in Dean’s pocket and the other on the nape of Aidan’s neck, playing with the soft, damp locks of hair while the other is trying to somehow unlock the door, cursing softly under his breath at every other failed attempt and smiling when he finally manages it, looking up at them with shining, wide eyes.  
Dean has never wanted him this much before.

He almost expects them to stumble into the room, all over each other, touching and kissing and grinding to erase even the last bit of distance between them, but Richard just extends his hand for Aidan to take, pulling him up from where he was crouched over to unlock the door and making sure that when they stepinside, they’re connected somehow, with intertwined fingers and palms pressed together. It feels better than frenzied touching ever could, even though it feels like every cell in Dean’s body is aching for more contact, to feel the blood thrumming under the other’s skin, to press so close that he won’t be able to tell apart where he ends and one of them begins.

He lets Aidan lead him and Richard to the bed, just like he would let Aidan lead him anywhere at all, and although he has been in here only the day before, watching old sci-fi movies and throwing popcorn at each other at random parts, suddenly, it all seems new, all different; because they’re all new, all different.  
There is a pause after the door has fallen shut, neither of them moving, just standing there, looking and waiting for the others to make the first step into whatever this will turn into, and Dean is thinking desperately about something to say.

In the end, he doesn’t, because the words seem to slip away before he can grasp them, and because maybe, there is no need to say anything after all. And the words don’t seem to be missed, not when Richard suddenly steps forward and kisses him, his hand still holding Aidan’s and pulling the other man with him, closer and closer until Dean can feel a hand on his hips, slowly working its way beneath his shirt.  
Aidan’s palms are soft and his fingertips calloused just like they are of every member on set and Dean likes the contrast, likes it even better when the hands are travelling up his sides, exploring.  
He likes the kiss too, likes how it is so different to the ones he has shared with Richard before, less passionate and more testing, more subtle and sweet, in some way, more like a first kiss than their actual first kiss ever was. Dean lets go of Richard’s hand to cup his face instead, but ends with his fingers threading into soft curls, brushing over the nape of a long, elegant neck and Aidan makes a soft sound, muffled by what Dean guesses to be the patch of skin just below Richard’s ear.  
Maybe it's that moment which makes all of this real and Dean gasps into Richard’s mouth, fingers tightening around strands of Aidan’s hair and suddenly  no more thoughts are needed, either.

 

They lose their shirts and rest of inhibitions on the way to the bed, which is only a few metres away and yet it takes forever, because Aidan’s lips switch from Richard’s neck to Dean’s mouth while Richard works open the buttons of his shirt, kissing down his chest and leaving the first of many marks on Dean’s skin; because Dean blindly tears at Richard’s shirt, so hard that at least three buttons are missing by the time he can push it off the other’s shoulders and because Aidan only pulls away from kissing, from nipping and sucking long enough to get rid of his own t-shirt, throwing it across the room without a care in the world.  
It’s passionate, but not rough, never rough, and with a hundred smiles passed between them through it, a hundred glances.

One of them pushes Richard on his back, Aidan and Dean staying on either side, sharing another kiss across the other man’s body while Dean’s fingers are working on getting the zipper of Richard’s jeans down, something which proves to be so much harder when there are teeth nipping on his lips, a tongue dancing with his own. He chuckles into Aidan’s mouth, the sound turning into a moan when Aidan sucks on his lower lip.  
It would be the easiest thing in the world to lose himself in the kiss, because ever since the first time they kissed, Aidan has done everything to find out just what makes his toes curl and his breath hitch, but even through the heavy fabric of the jeans, Dean can feel the warmth of Richard’s skin, can feel his cock hardening with every brush of Dean’s fingers and it’s as intoxicating as Aidan’s kiss is, a last reminder for him to pull away. And he does, leaves Aidan’s lips red and shining, parted as the other watches him finally get Richard’s pants open.

Dean is rewarded with a soft groan, a hiss and when he lifts his head, he isn’t sure where to look, at Richard or Aidan, because both of them are looking back. So instead, he does neither, instead hooks two fingers under Richard’s waistband and pulls, the other man lifting his hips just enough so that Dean can get them past his hips, moving until he can ease them down muscular thighs and calves, just enough so that Richard can kick them off.  
He’s on his knees, Richard’s seemingly endless legs spread out in front of him and it takes a moment until Dean can find the courage to look up, eyes travelling up over legs which look even longer now,  stalling a moment before settling on Richard’s cock, which is more than just half-hard now, thick enough that Dean knows his lips will ache in the best way from stretching tomorrow and long enough that he knows that if Richard wanted to, he could make him choke on it with nothing more than a small thrust. He won’t, though, Dean knows that just as well, and it’s not just reassuring (especially since he isn’t sure he doesn’t want that, doesn’t want to give the other the freedom to do as he wishes with him), it’s making him feel warm inside, _knowing_ Richard so well.

He must have been staring, Dean realises suddenly, at the flexing muscles of Richard’s thighs, the way his hipbones look as if they were about to burst through the skin, sharp and protruding, but while he would have been embarrassed by it mere hours ago, he isn't anymore, even if blood is rushing to his cheeks, tinting them pink.  
With another glance up at Richard's face, his half-lidded eyes and kiss-bruised lips, Dean inches closer, his hand shaking when he wraps his fingers around the other's cock. The moan he has expected to hear, even at this little bit of friction never comes, and Dean looks up, surprised, because he knows he would be groaning and gasping already, his own cock twitching at the thought. But the confusion only lasts for a moment or two, because as soon as Dean's eyes have focussed enough to make out clear shapes, he knows exactly why Richard is not making a sound; because his lips are occupied with something completely different.  
Aidan has his long fingers holding Richard's jaw, tilting and turning his face so the other can lick into his mouth, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth ever so often.

And Dean is lost, at least for a little bit, his grip around Richard's erection loosening as he watches, at least until the older man does react, rolls his hips into the touch, and Dean cannot help but think of it as a plea, not with words, but with movement. There is no way he could refuse, not now and probably not ever, so Dean doesn’t hesitate a second, tightens his fingers once more and starts moving them slowly.  
It’s exhilarating, this, finding out about what makes Richard jerk his hips, what makes him kiss Aidan with even more fervour, what makes him moan so loudly that even Aidan’s clever tongue is not enough to push the sound back down his throat, so Dean takes his time.  
Varying the rhythm of his strokes, he finds one which makes Richard buck into his every touch, his fingers tightening with every upstroke, pressing a fingertip just below the head of his cock, rubbing his thumb over the slit from time to time until there is a thin sheen of sweat glistening on Richard’s broad chest, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every gulp of air Aidan allows him to take between kisses. It’s beautiful, Richard is beautiful, but it’s not enough, so Dean shifts his weight until he can lean down and swipe his tongue over the head of the other’s cock, just teasing for now.

There is a breathless second, in which Dean isn’t sure if it’s too much, if he has gone too far (are there boundaries left between them?), but then Richard rocks into the touch, tries to get more of the friction, the warmth, and Dean smiles and gives him everything he asked for.

He starts slowly, mourning the fact that it’s so much harder to watch them kiss in this position as he sucks the head into his mouth, taking a moment to tease the slit with the tip of his tongue, before he moves down further. It’s been some time since he did this, so it’s not as easy as it used to be to relax his jaw, but Dean does his best, holding Richard’s hips down with one hand, for even if he can feel how the older man is doing his best not to thrust up into his mouth, he knows how hard it can be to control the urge.

And then, with Dean’s head bobbing slowly on Richard’s cock, there is a loud moan, almost echoing through the room, and it takes a second until he realises why it makes him stop mid-motion. It's cruel, but Dean pulls off nonetheless, a gasp falling from his lips when he takes in the scene in front of him.  
His two, new lovers have broken their kiss, Aidan on his knees now with his head thrown back and his lips parted in a soundless scream, chest rising rapidly as Richard moves the hand closed around the other’s erection in the same rhythm Dean has been bobbing on his cock before.

For a moment, Dean can’t move, can’t do more than watch, because they’re perfect without him, and it still doesn’t hurt, because he wouldn’t want them to be anything but this, but then Richard’s eyes find his, and they’re perfect with him, still.  
Dean isn’t sure if he even thinks before he swallows Richard’s cock down again, their eyes still locked, but it doesn’t matter either way, because Richard moans and all thoughts left in his mind vanish instantly. It’s a deep, dark sound, breathless and hoarse and Dean’s cock twitches, leaks precome when he moves down further, wraps his fingers tighter around the part of Richard’s shaft he cannot cover with his mouth.

They find a rhythm between them, between Aidan’s rocking hips and Richard’s fist and Dean’s mouth, and it doesn’t take long until Aidan is moaning with every stroke, Richard cursing under his breath.  
It’s perfect, and Dean savours every second, keeps his eyes on both of them as much as he possibly can. If it was his decision to make, he’d make it last forever, even if his own cock is aching with need. But it isn’t, and he can’t, and so it takes far too little time until Aidan’s hips stutter, his body tenses and his eyes slip shut as he comes, head thrown back and lips parted to let a long, low moan escape.  
Dean stops in mid-motion, the head of Richard’s cock resting heavily on his tongue as he watches Aidan unravel in front of him, spilling all over the older man’s hand, his chest.  
It’s a captivating sight, and for a moment, Dean almost forgets how to breathe, only brought back to reality when Richard, more accidentally than anything, thrusts up into his mouth, far too little to make him choke, but enough to remind him that there is still so much to do.

With his eyes still fixed on the other two, Dean sucks hard around Richard’s shaft, lowers his head further just when Aidan reaches out with shaking hands and grabs Richard’s wrist to pull it up until he can dart his tongue out and lick his own come off the other’s skin. The sight makes Dean moan and Richard choke on the sounds he means to make, his hips now moving in synch with the bobs of Dean’s head and he can feel how every movement is pushing the other closer to the edge.  
His moans grow more breathless and Dean loves it, sucks harder and moves his head faster, his tongue tracing the pulsing vein on the underside whenever he manages to, because he needs to see Richard come apart beneath him as much as he needs some friction to relieve his own tension.

And he does, because Aidan leans down and laps at a few spurts of white seed on Richard’s chest, a pretty pink tongue flicking across the older man’s pale skin, and Dean knows that Richard is coming even before the other thrusts up into his mouth, still trying to keep still but failing.  
It's hard not to gag, because Richard is no small man by any means, and the head of his cock is hitting the back of Dean’s throat too easily, but even with a few tears blurring his vision, it’s worth it.  
The sounds Richard makes are sweet and breathless, a name or two, mixed with curses and before Dean knows it, come is dribbling from the corners of his lips, because it’s impossible to swallow it all; the bitter taste clinging to his tongue and lips even after Richard has finished riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He gives the older man’s softening cock a last, quick lick, which makes Richard moan hoarsely before he pulls off with a noise that should sound lewd, sound filthy but doesn’t, because blue eyes are fixed on him, sated and twinkling. For a moment, Dean is more than content to just watch, but then long, elegant fingers are curling around his shoulder and pulling him up and against a lean chest, coarse, dark hair scratching over Dean’s skin as Aidan kisses him, just lips against lips at first before the other starts licking into his mouth.  
There is a hint of a smile on Aidan’s lips and the taste of his own come on his tongue, and Dean raises a hand to cup his face and tilt it back, giving him an even better access to suck and lick and kiss Aidan until he is breathless.

The other is making the sweetest sounds and Dean smiles, because he should always have known that Aidan would be vocal, having to tell the whole world about every spark of pleasure, every sensation and every touch.  When they part, it’s only because Dean feels so light-headed he is afraid of keeling over, and the other’s lips are already red and swollen, so, although his lungs protest, Dean leans forward to place a sweet, chaste kiss on them before he can even take a single breath.  
Again, Aidan makes a sound, and this time Dean answers with one of his own, a surprised, pleased gasp in the back of his throat, because while it was only Aidan in front of him up until now, suddenly there is a warm, solid chest pressed against his back.

Richard is nuzzling his neck, peppering kisses on the tender skin whenever possible, and Dean leans back into the touch before he can think about it; he still only loses Aidan’s lips for the moment he needs to breathe, because the other follows, even when Richard starts to pull him back against his chest. It’s the easiest thing to let him, to fall back on him, since Dean knows that the older man will catch him.

He does, his breath hot against Dean’s neck as a large palm and calloused fingers make their way down his chest, pinching one of his nipples and making him giggle into Aidan’s kiss as they dance over his ribs; the sound drawing a chuckle from both of his new-found lovers.  
_Lovers_ , Dean repeats in his head, and feels his heart grow lighter than it has ever been before.  
The hand still inching down his body forces the thought out of his head again, because blunt fingernails are scratching lightly over his lower stomach, wandering further and further down until Dean’s breath is coming in huffs.

With Richard’s responses to concentrate on, with Aidan’s lovely lips, it was easy to forget about his own arousal, but now it is impossible to even try and push it aside, especially when the older man’s fingertips brush across the base of his cock, not yet enough to make him moan, but to make his breath hitch.

How they move so in synch, Dean does not know, but the moment Aidan’s lips leave his, Richard’s hand moves to wrap itself around his shaft, the moan reaching the air this time, echoing loudly in Dean’s ears. Aidan’s lips trail a line of kisses down his neck, his chest and stomach, and as much as Dean would like to concentrate on them, he cannot, because Richard’s hand has started moving in slow, steady strokes which make Dean’s skin feel as if it was too small for him, make his entire being feel as if he was on fire.     
Hot, wet kisses are pressed against his skin, his hips and inner thighs and before Dean can brace himself, Aidan wraps his pretty, kiss-swollen lips around the head of his cock and sucks.

Somewhere stuck in his throat, there is a moan or a gasp or a scream which Dean cannot get out because it’s too much; Richard’s skilful fingers and Aidan’s clever tongue.  
He should try and make this last, but it’s impossible, because he is far too hard, far too worked up already, to the point where, when the moans start, they don’t seem to stop anymore.

It takes an almost embarrassingly short time until Dean can feel his orgasm approaching, his toes curling and his head pushed back against Richard’s shoulder behind him. Every of Aidan’s sucks and licks makes him gasp, liquid pleasure running through his veins and filling him up until he cannot think anymore. Dean comes apart only a few moments afterwards, crying out as he bucks up into Richard’s hand, Aidan’s mouth, feeling complete and overwhelmed and wonderful.

If time passes as slowly as Dean thinks it does, it takes an eternity until he is thinking clearly again, watching how Aidan and Richard share a languid kiss over his shoulder. They must both taste him on their lips and the thought makes something in Dean’s stomach flutter he didn’t even know existed.  
It takes a while until they part again, but Dean doesn’t mind, completely content with watching until Aidan has pulled back far away to catch his gaze and smiles, captures his lips in a chaste kiss.

Richard pulls him back again, though this time not against his chest but back onto the mattress, turning and  keeping one strong arm splayed across his chest and Dean can’t do anything but shifting closer to the older man’s, pressing a small kiss to Richard’s shoulder. Aidan just stays where he is for a few moments, watching them with affection written all over his features before he lets him fall down next to Dean, not even trying to be graceful for once.  
The sight makes Richard chuckle and Dean smile, then give a pleased hum as Aidan snuggles as close as possible, looping one arm around Dean’s waist, his fingertips brushing over Richard’s side. It’s intimate and far too hot, because Dean is still flushed, but he doesn’t even think about moving away.

“I’m glad you’re here”, Aidan finally mutters, his breath hot against Dean’s neck and his accent thick and lovely, and although Dean is not sure if the other means him or Richard or both of them, it doesn’t matter much.  
“Me too”, he replies, because he is, and brushes his knuckles over Aidan’s thighs as Richard reaches out and takes Aidan’s hand, brings it to his lips to press a sweet, little kiss onto the palm. “Me too”, he repeats in his lovely, deep voice before he places Aidan’s hand back where it belongs. “We will talk about this tomorrow, alright?”

Dean doesn’t want to say yes, because he is not sure if he wants to talk about it at all, fearing that it might take away the magic which has clung to this entire evening, but he nods nonetheless, because he knows that Richard is right. This is beautiful, but it is a mess nonetheless, a strange, tangled, wonderful thing, and they will need time to unravel it far enough to see at least some of the pieces.  
So he nods, feels Aidan do the same, and Richard smiles, relaxes next to Dean.

And there are no more words after that until they fall asleep, just touches; Aidan’s breath against Dean’s neck, Richard’s arm draped across both of them, and Dean’s heart which somehow seems to have made place for both of them.  


**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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